


Dead and Gone

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Empire Day, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, OOC-ishness, One-Shot, Planet Naboo (Star Wars), Pre-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Self Confidence Issues, Sithly Fluff, Vulnerable Palpatine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 08:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8616349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Empire Day was supposed to be a day of celebration for Palpatine, especially since he was spending the holiday on Naboo. But, even the Emperor isn't immune to self-doubt and emotional baggage.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thymesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/gifts).



> Inspired by a convo with CherryBlossomMonologues about how much we liked fics about Vader and Palpatine being friends for once. This is just a random bit of Sith fluff.

Empire Day.

A day of jubilation. A day of peace. A day when Emperor Palpatine could forget the gnawing worries about the Rebellion’s crippling blows to his military. Just for one day, he even disregarded the headache-inducing setbacks on the Death Star II project and allowed himself to indulge in the festivities. His advisors had been shocked when he announced his intention to grace Naboo with his presence during the holiday, but they quickly made arrangements.

And now, as the Emperor basked in the sights and sounds of Theed, he decided that it was all worth the effort. Thousands of citizens gathered to watch the procession. It was mandatory, of course, but the Emperor was pleased with their enthusiasm as he watched them wave colorful banners and throw handfuls of flowers and confetti. He walked at the head of the parade, flanked by Lord Vader and a large group of Royal Guards, as the Imperial anthem blared through the streets. 

Mas Amedda followed closely behind with Grand Admiral Thrawn and Admiral Rae Sloane at his side. Only the best of the best were handpicked by the Emperor himself to march at the front. A massive entourage of Imperial officers and Stormtroopers trailed behind in perfect rows. The citizens marveled at the state-of-the-art weaponry as it rolled past, shaking the ground. They cheered and waved their flags as a group of TIE fighters flew overhead. 

“I’d like to greet the citizens,” the Emperor said. He was in an unusually good mood. 

He could sense Vader’s hesitation, but paid no attention as he broke away from the tall, protective circle of red robes and walked over to the spectators. Vader and the guards reorganized themselves around the Emperor in a way that didn’t obstruct him from view. Their leader rarely showed himself in public or interacted with the populace.

The Emperor slowly plodded his way over to a group of children, but they clutched their flower baskets to their chests and backed away in terror. 

“Hello, young ones. Are you enjoying Empire Day?” the Emperor said, forcing a cheerful tone even though fear and revulsion oozed from the bystanders.

“Who are you?” a girl no older than six asked. She held a small flag with the Imperial cog emblazoned on it in gold. An older man rushed forward and knelt in front of the Emperor. 

“Your Majesty, please forgive my granddaughter…” 

“That’s the Emperor? But he’s so unsightly!” someone said incredulously. “Doesn’t look a thing like he does in the recordings!” 

“Shh! Are you out of your mind?” someone hissed. 

“What happened to his face, mama?” 

Before long, the Emperor felt like he was drowning in unpleasant whispers and stares. He didn’t bother singling out the perpetrators of the treasonous comments. Instead, he turned away and rejoined the parade as anger rose inside of him, fiery and all encompassing. But, he wasn’t angry with the Naboo. They were merely ignorant, ungrateful, and too foolish to realize everything he did for them. The planet was more prosperous than ever, thanks to his feelings of goodwill toward his home. No, he was angry at himself for feeling a pang of self-consciousness at their remarks. Such weakness! And in front of Vader, no less. 

*** 

The Emperor said very little for the rest of the day. When they gathered in the banquet hall of the royal palace for an exclusive dinner, he still remained quiet. He was quickly realizing that Naboo was a weakness in his life. Every time he visited, he was overcome with memories of his youth and the days where he was a well-liked, dignified senator. He often goaded Vader for having lingering, disgusting bits of sentiment and longing, yet he was guilty of the same, humiliating thing. 

He barely paid attention to Queen Soruna’s welcome speech and only half-heartedly greeted the Naboo nobles before the food was served. Lavish fruit, rich soups, warm bread, pudding, roasted meat, colorful salads, and fine wine were placed in front of them, but the Emperor had lost his appetite. He normally didn’t eat much, anyway. 

The Emperor picked up his goblet, but his hands were visibly shaking. He folded them in his lap instead, trying to ignore the pain in his arthritis-ridden fingers. He’d make sure to double his medication tonight. 

He gazed around the table, taking in his fellow Naboo and their luxurious shawls and gowns of silk and velvet, the glimmering silver and gold embroidery. He looked down at his plain black robes and frowned. They hadn’t been washed in ages…surely they must smell. The Emperor shook himself out of his worthless ruminations. Vanity was for the feeble-minded. 

“…His Majesty’s plans for mining in the Mid Rim have been most successful,” Thrawn was saying, “I was able to clear out Rebel cells on multiple planets before the operations began.” 

As one of the only aliens in the Imperial ranks, the Chiss had proven himself to be far more intelligent and valuable than his xenophobic coworkers during his years of impeccable service. Many of the hosts seemed far more enamored by the pristinely dressed grand admiral than the Emperor himself. In fact, most people avoided making eye contact with the Emperor altogether. 

The Emperor watched lovely Soruna as she conversed with a young nobleman. Her laugh reminded him so much of---no. NO. He couldn’t do this. Not here, not ever. Sentiment was weakness. 

Just then, Soruna met his gaze, her dark eyes narrowing. He could feel her disgust and hatred, but she quickly composed her face into a more friendly expression and gave him a small smile and a nod. 

“Your time as queen has been prosperous, I hope?” The Emperor said, his voice strained and raspy. 

“Very much, Your Highness. Although, I do have some big shoes to fill, to be honest.”

“Indeed,” the Emperor said. “Naboo has had a wealth of strong leaders.”

“We take great pride in peace and democracy,” Soruna said. “I hope I represent my people well.” She boldly held his gaze long enough for the others to shift uncomfortably. 

The Emperor let it go. He didn’t have the energy to reprimand the insolent child. As Rae Sloane began to tell an exciting story about wiping out rebels on Lothal, the Emperor turned his attention toward Vader, who stood motionless behind him. No one at the table had even looked in his direction. To them, he was just another faceless gear in the Galactic machine. The Emperor reached out and tried to get a feel for Vader’s thoughts, but they were carefully guarded. Interesting. 

The Emperor rubbed his temples, suddenly feeling very tired and a bit nauseous. His bones ached more than usual. The joy of Empire Day had turned into quite a miserable affair. He desperately wanted to relax in a steaming bath where he wouldn’t have to listen to these fools prattle on about their meaningless lives. How he wished Wilhuff Tarkin or Orson Krennic were here. They were some of the few tolerable people. 

But, they were dead.

Dead and gone.

Just like Plagueis, Maul, and Tyranus. Just like his parents, siblings, and most of his childhood friends. Just like the one woman on Coruscant who he’d loved more than life itself before his heart was irreparably broken. Just like the days where he was cultured, young, healthy, and openly proud of his Naboo heritage in the way he dressed and carried himself. 

No! Enough! What was happening? How had his mind been poisoned with such sickening thoughts? He needed to get out of here…

When he shakily lifted himself out of the cushioned chair and grabbed his cane, everyone else immediately got to their feet. He gave them a dismissive wave of his hand.

“No, no. You keep eating. I require some fresh air.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Soruna said. She gestured to a nearby handmaiden. “Escort him to one of the balconies, please.” 

***

The Emperor stood at the balcony ledge, silent as a statue as he watched the sun dip below the horizon. His guards watched him carefully as he remained there long after darkness fell and fireworks began lighting up the sky with their dazzling colors. Theed had spared no expense on the final hurrah of Empire Day. 

He remembered when his parents brought him to the plaza to watch the displays during the Festival of Light. He remembered sitting on his father’s shoulders, pointing up at the sky in awe. Afterward, he would join his friends as they floated candles down the river. Those were simpler times. Even though he suppressed his memories, it didn’t take much to trigger them. There was something welcoming about the days where he was blissfully ignorant of the darkness that would consume his life. 

But, the darkness had forged him into something remarkable. Now, he was resilient, powerful, feared, and respected. He had returned the glory of the Sith to the galaxy along with peace and stability. If only his parents could see him now. If only Darth Plagueis himself could marvel at what he’d become. 

But, what HAD he become? A powerful leader or a decrepit, hideous monster? He touched his wrinkled, disfigured face with his clawlike fingers before clenching them into fists. The stone of the balcony began to crack as he unconsciously released his rage and despair. Just then, a familiar, slightly comforting presence brought him back to the balcony. He turned around, sighing as Vader walked toward him. 

“Are you well, my Master?”

The Emperor scowled. “I’m fine,” he said. “Move along, Lord Vader. The Queen probably wants to hear about your heroic exploits during the Battle of Yavin. Those stories never grow old.” For once, he regretted the jab. Berating Vader had become part of his daily routine for the past while, but he knew that his apprentice was trying as hard as he could. He could never hold the Empire together without him. 

“Our hosts have gifts for you. I thought you would like----“

“I’d like to be left alone,” he said more softly. “Perhaps you could accept them for me, my friend.”

Vader didn’t move. There was a long, awkward silence as the Emperor gave him another death glare. As if this day wasn’t already bad enough, now his apprentice was openly defying him? 

“I sense that something is troubling you, my master. I can summon a medical droid if you are in need.” 

The Emperor finally snapped.

“And that will make the excruciating pain in my joints go away forever? Or purge my mind of intrusive memories? Or…or fix any of THIS?” He angrily pointed at himself, ignoring Vader’s uncensored feelings of alarm and nervousness at his outburst. The Emperor turned away, breathing heavily as he held up his gnarled hands. “My own people can’t even bear to look at me. And I don’t blame them.”

More silence.

The Emperor instantly regretted divulging that particular information to Vader. His apprentice could not suspect any weakness in him. As master, he was to show absolute strength at all times, or else…

A chilly wind rustled through the trees. The Emperor pulled his robe tighter around his small, frail body. He hunched over even more, wincing. Even the slightest hint of cold seemed to settle in his bones these days. 

“The Empire would be nothing without you, my Master,” Vader said. “Those who see physical imperfection in you don’t understand the power of the Force.” 

The Emperor slowly faced Vader again, his pale lips curving into a faint smile. As much as he hated to admit it, he was always glad when Vader accompanied him. He was a calm, reassuring presence in his chaotic life. 

“You flatter me, Lord Vader.” 

Vader held out his hand. “Would you like to return to the feast, Master? You don’t deserve to be alone and unappreciated on Empire Day.”

The Emperor hesitated for a moment, but gently took Vader’s hand. “I’m not,” he said. “I’m here with you, my apprentice.”


End file.
